Tag Archives: true
Three sadists walk into a dungeon – play in a BDSM club
This gorgeous real life story about play in a BDSM club is by Victoria Blisse, and first appeared on her website. It is read here by Sherryl Blu. Features sadism, BDSM, pain and blood.
It was Kev’s birthday party at Miss Ts. I was wearing my new polka dot dress with pockets and telling everyone it had pockets because that is a given. I was doing my hosting duties and when I wasn’t I was sitting between Kronopticon and Palantilin. I tell you, there’s something quite decadent about flopping down on a sofa between two hot guys, both happy for you to snuggle close and touch them. The two meanies hadn’t met before, but they seemed to bond quite happily over their mutual desire to hurt me.
I was glad to be of service.
In which he makes me say ‘please’
He’s really cool, of course. Sweet and thoughtful and politically angry in good ways, not to mention kind and fun. He’s an excellent cook and he has lovely hands and he sometimes picks me up which makes me squirm. But I think, if pressed, what I like best about him at this very moment is that sometimes he makes me say ‘please.’
This is not why we broke up
It wasn’t that my body was wrong, for a start. Over the course of our relationship I changed a lot – sometimes I looked fucking spectacular and other times I looked crap. Same with him. I fancied the fuck out of him, always, regardless of what shape or size his body was or how he’d chosen to dress it today. We lived, we grew, we changed: our bodies could never have been the reason why we broke up.
Fuckdrunk: sometimes when I’m fucking, I lose my fucking mind
I am fuckdrunk yet again. My legs are limp and my muscles weak and my throat is parched and all I can feel is the throbbing satisfaction in my cunt. For a split second I wonder if I’m making poor decisions, then I realise that fuckdrunk me could not possibly care less. Thinking straight is not as fun as being high on dick.
Tear off my clothes: an intro to the bracelet game
We’re having a conversation about kinks. The fun things we’d like to try (or try again), and the ways in which we’d like to tear into each other. This is the kind of foreplay I really love: talking. Talking is my kink. Hearing someone tell me what they’re into – whether confident statements or shy suggestions – gets me hotter than anything else. So we’re having a conversation about kinks, and he tells me he wants to tear off my clothes.